


the floor is caving in

by madnessiseverything



Series: tales of narnia [31]
Category: Chronicles of Narnia (Movies), Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types, Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Ficlet, Gen, POV Second Person, Post-The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe, Self-Doubt, lucy says no self-doubt on my watch, we grieve together in this family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 05:08:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28630047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madnessiseverything/pseuds/madnessiseverything
Summary: “Was I a good king?” He asks, and your breath stutters in your chest. Of course, you want to say, how could you even think otherwise? But there is a tremor in his voice, something that makes you pause and look.the one where grief brings doubt and lucy brings comfort.
Relationships: Lucy Pevensie & Peter Pevensie
Series: tales of narnia [31]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2039454
Comments: 3
Kudos: 26





	the floor is caving in

**Author's Note:**

> this was in my drafts for a very, very long time until i posted it to tumblr the other day. because the grief of the pevensies lives rentfree in my head. hope you like it! <3
> 
> (title from "dear doubt" by michael schulte)

“Was I a good king?” He asks, and your breath stutters in your chest. Of course, you want to say, how could you even think otherwise? But there is a tremor in his voice, something that makes you pause and look. He looks so small, his arms wrapped around his legs, his chin propped up on his knees, and his eyes fixed on the wardrobe.

He continues. “Am I a good brother?” 

You don’t hesitate this time. “Of course.” 

He looks at you. The shards of your already broken heart splinter at the pain written plainly across his face. “I worry,” he says, and there is a tear rolling down his face, and you want to hold him because he never used to cry this silently back home, “I worry that I’ve done something wrong.” 

You don’t understand, not at all. He doesn’t wipe the tears away. You grab hold of his hands and ask, “What do you mean?” 

“I was meant to keep you safe, all of you. You were- _are_ my responsibility. I  failed _.  _ So many times, Lucy, I _failed_.” 

“Oh Peter,” you say because suddenly you understand. Your eyes stare up at the wardrobe, so cold and empty now that the door back home is shut. You’ve asked yourself the same question before, haven’t you? Was it something all of you did? Was your rule not good enough, were you a danger that needed removing? What did you do to deserve this exile? 

The moments of paralysing doubt never last long, but you think you ought to have known your brother would not look past it as you can. So you exhale, and your feelings of worry are replaced with a simple sadness. You glance back at your brother, whose shoulders slump under the weight of a world that has been ripped away, whose hands are still bigger than yours and whose voice doesn’t sound right anymore. He has been suffering in silence again, giving his all to the three of you without letting himself break in your sight. 

“It’s not your fault,” you finally say. “I don’t think it’s any of ours.” He doesn’t look convinced at your soft words, but he wipes at his face and inhales deeply. With a shaky sigh, he closes his eyes. You lean your head against his shoulder and let him breathe for a while. Even with everything that’s so horribly wrong in this world, the feeling of his arm settling around your shoulders to pull you is familiar enough to make you smile.   
  
You look up at him again. “You don’t have to hide your suffering from us,” you whisper, and it’s as much a statement as it is a plea, asking him to please break where they can help. “You’re allowed to grieve as much as we are.” 

He gives off a choked off sound that you think he meant to be laughter. “But what if I let myself go and can’t come back?” He turns his head. There is fear amongst the grief, a fear that is new to you. You don’t think it’s new to him. “I’m scared that I won’t be able to piece myself together again in time.” 

“Then we will help,” you say, and he smiles through fresh tears. 

“Okay.” 

**Author's Note:**

> i have a [narnia tumblr](https://bloodybigwardrobe.tumblr.com/) and am also on [twitter](https://twitter.com/notanycritter), feel free to drop by for a chat!


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